


all your history's like fire from a busted gun

by brandywine421



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His friends invite him out and sometimes he goes along.</p><p>It's not like the army, it's not like college.</p><p>It's like a group of strangers sharing the same space and laughing about things that don't matter.</p><p>It's nice and it's not and it's all he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all your history's like fire from a busted gun

**Author's Note:**

> AN: A little experiment in grief. Present day, Steve's an ex-soldier and Tony Stark is Tony Stark.

Sometimes.  
  
He misses the city, the buzz of traffic and the chatter of the ambivalent crowds passing him on the streets.    
  
He misses the dry heat of the desert, the sand in every seam of his clothes, the jerk of the gun firing from his tensed hand.  
  
He misses warm fingers twined with his on a cold night, dry lips and a wet mouth, soft words from a hardened man.  
  
But sometimes.  
  
He doesn't miss anything at all.  


* * *

  
"Who's this?"  
  
"That's Bucky."  
  
"Oh.  He looks like a good friend, why haven't I seen him around?"  
  
"He's dead."  
  
"I'm so sorry - I didn't know..."  
  
"Tony makes fun of me for getting manicures but I think I still have some of his blood under my fingernails.  I go twice a week."  


* * *

  
Tony looks like he would fit perfectly under his hands.  
  
He looks like a biter, an unrepentant feral lover that's not afraid to hurt, to mark, to burn him under his skin.  
  
He looks like someone Steve would pretend to tame just to taste the wildness in his kiss.  
  
Tony licks his lips.  He doesn't see Steve.  


* * *

  
"I think I'd remember if I'd met you before, hotshot, what's your 411?"  
  
Steve sips his beer.  He knows how to do this, Bucky taught him how to do this.  
  
Tony's eyebrows rise, one at a time.  "Seriously?"  
  
He glances at him and Tony smiles, fluorescent white.  Steve flicks his gaze to the empty stool and then back at the shelves of alcohol behind the bar.  
  
"Okay, officially curious now.  Playing hard to get?" Tony's fingertips trace the back of his hand, rough and calloused.  
  
Steve's curious now.  Tony Stark's too rich to have a working man's hands.  
  
"Maybe I'm just playing hard," Steve says.  Tony grins and he grins back.  


* * *

  
Once.  
  
He forgot how to pray.  


* * *

  
"I didn't think you'd have his pictures up."  
  
"Why wouldn't I?"  
  
"You were pretty torn up about it."  
  
"Doesn't mean I want to forget him."  
  
"Are you sure you're not stuck in the past?"  
  
"I see him every night in my dreams.  I like to see him when his face isn't blown off when I'm awake."  


* * *

  
It isn't love.  It isn't a relationship.  It isn't 'just sex'.  
  
It's something else.  
  
Something more and less than anything he understands.  
  
Tony comes by.  Daily for a bit.  Then no contact for months.  Then biweekly.  Daily again.  
  
He comes by when he's lonely.  When he's bored.  When he's horny.  Tony comes by when he wants.  
  
Steve doesn't care why he comes by.  That doesn't mean he doesn't care when he leaves.  


* * *

  
His friends invite him out and sometimes he goes along.  
  
It's not like the army, it's not like college.  
  
It's like a group of strangers sharing the same space and laughing about things that don't matter.  
  
It's nice and it's not and it's all he has.  
  
Steve's friends from the publishing agency think he's dark and brooding, the contradiction of 'blonds have more fun'.  They know him from his graphic novels, the blood and pain in blocks of violence on a page.  
  
His friends from the army think he's grieving and in desperate need of a fuck.  They think he lost his best friend when in reality, he lost so much more.  
  
His friends from the neighborhood think he's a 'nice Catholic boy' who needs to find a nice Catholic girl to have babies with.  They think he's perfect for their daughters and nieces and friends of their friends; but Steve's not perfect, he's not husband material.  
  
Tony doesn't invite him out, but he invites him in.  
  
It takes him longer than it should for him to realize how special it is to be invited into Tony's world.  


* * *

  
Steve isn't honest with a lot of people.  But Tony's honest with him.  
  
He tells him about Afghanistan and the glowing thing in his chest.  Steve disarmed a lot of bombs but he's never seen anything like the arc reactor.  He tells Steve how it works, to the point of taking it out and letting him see the hollow space in his heart.  
  
Steve tells him about walking across firelines and dragging soldiers out of gunfights.  He tells him about Bucky's body splitting into pieces when he was just out of reach and letting Tony see the hollow space in his soul.  
  
Tony holds him when he forgets to leave and stays the night, sheltering him from his dreams.  Steve holds him when he remembers to sleep, making sure his arc reactor's not hidden so the blue glow is the first thing Tony sees when he opens his eyes and reaches for his heart.  
  
They talk about everything and anything that doesn't have to do with each other.  


* * *

  
He paints Bucky in full uniform, in jeans and no shirt, in bed with no clothes at all.  
  
He paints over each one in dark, blood red.  


* * *

  
"You have a lot of pictures of this guy, who is he?"  
  
"Bucky."  
  
"Was he your brother?"  
  
"Yes."  


* * *

  
Tony shows up on Bucky's birthday with coffee and his driver waiting downstairs.  
  
Steve didn't ask him, but he's touched.  It's more than he expected and it's more than he deserves.  
  
He talked to Tony, but he hasn't realized how much Tony listens.  
  
There's a cooler with Bucky's favorite beer and hand-rolled cigarettes and Tony waits in the car, feigning ambivalence with his tablet and cell phone while Steve stands over Bucky's grave.  
  
He doesn't cry and he doesn't pray.  
  
He doesn't have Bucky's blood under his fingernails but he tangles his fingers in Tony's hair in the car afterward so he doesn't have to look at his hands.  
  
Later when Tony's inside him, he whispers desperate 'thank you's' into the pillow and Tony sucks bruises into his neck.  


* * *

  
Tony mentions commitment.  He says he's always failed at it, that he always strays.  
  
Steve kisses him.  
  
Tony stays.  He becomes a part of Steve's space, carving a niche in the ice and settling in despite the cold.  
  
Steve has an easel in Tony's workshop.  He keeps a lot of blue paint in a locked case and his paintings are shaded in the blue glow of Tony's heart.  


* * *

  
He dreams of Bucky.  
  
He doesn't dream of blood.  
  
He doesn't wake up screaming.  
  
Maybe he kisses Tony a little softer.  
  
Maybe he smiles a little easier.  
  
Maybe he remembers the beginning a little more.  
  
Maybe he forgets the good parts a little less.  
  
Maybe he holds on to the now a little tighter.  


* * *

  
Tony doesn't keep photographs on his walls.  
  
Steve's paintings fill the spaces where priceless art used to live.  Steve's heart fills the spaces where Tony's blue heart has the gaps.  Tony's heart beats where Bucky's doesn't.  
  
He hangs a picture of Bucky in their guest room, smiling with an arm around him, their eyes alive and in love.  
  
Nobody has to ask who he is.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title belongs to Interpol.


End file.
